[Mock-Fiction] IV - Alea Iacta Est {Rogue's Story}

Note: Please read the Formal Notice movella. It should be on the list on the right hand side.

Yup. Just the one perspective.

Cover by Secrets Unfold


27. Epilogue

Khadir was worried. As he climbed the steps to Rogue’s Study, he wondered what she wanted out of him. She’d been hidden away in her Study for over a month, only coming down to eat – and even then, her former merriment had clearly departed. Her tone was less sarcastic, her words were scant and her general demeanour was insufferably morbid. The mercenaries had tried everything – from playing chess to slipping scorpions in each others underwear – to make her laugh, shout, scream.

But she was simply an empty vessel.

She didn’t even frown. Her lips were just pressed into a straight line, as if muted.


As he approached the door, he could here her singing – something he hadn’t heard in a very long time – but it didn’t lighten his fears:

Noel, it’s turned so cold.

Noel, it’s past your bedtime.

You’ve played the day away –

And soon it will be night.


Hush now, my soldier,

Be still, brave, don’t cry.

Rest as you’re rocked by the Stream.

Rest and remember, my last lullaby –

So I’ll be with you when you dream.


Oh Styx, oh River, flow gently for me,

Such precious cargo you bear.

Do you know somewhere

He can live free?


Deliver him there…


Khadir heard her gasp and sob.


Brother, your safe now

And safe you will stay,

For I have a prayer just for you –

Rest, soldier, brother.

I’ll come for you one day.

I’ll come delivered to you.


He knocked lightly on the door.

“Come,” said Rogue.

Khadir walked in and raised his brows at what he saw. The Study was neat and tidy. Something it simply had not been, since its conception.

He composed himself, “You called for me.”

“That’s right,” Rogue mumbled, “Be a dear and shut the door, will you?” she turned and stuff a book into a small bag. It was one Khadir had never seen before. It was grey, and had the silhouettes of coloured butterflies printed on the cover. It was a book on the verge of breaking its binding, he could tell, but was held together by a white belt so that it tried not to appear so.


He closed the door, “What are you doing?”

“Khadir…” Rogue turned to him, putting the bag on her shoulder, and lifting another, much bigger bag, that she’d stored under her desk, “I don’t know what to tell you, except what must be said: I’m leaving.”


“That is right.”

“But how? To where? Does the rest of the Brotherhood know?”
“I will leave. All the preparations have been made. A passage home has been cleared for me,” she looked away, “And, no, the Brotherhood does not know. And they cannot know, Khadir.”


Khadir looked aghast, “Wayhakee, how can you abandon us?”

“I…” she shook her head, “I’ve no excuses. But its something I’ve done all my life. Run away. I’ve no alibi. But please, Khadir, do this for me,” she grasped his arms, “Please don’t let anyone know. Not the Brotherhood. Not the mercenaries. If you must confide in someone, then Enya and only Enya. They cannot know that I’m gone. Is that clear?”

“You’re leaving this… in my keeping?”

“I can trust with that, can’t I?”


Khadir nodded solemnly, “I can try. I will tell all that you are severely ill, and cannot make any appearances,” he looked at her, “But… how can you go home? To London?”

“I’ve done what I can. I’ve done what I must,” she said, “Don’t you fret about it.”

“Alright…” he paused and then regarded her, “When will you come back?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“…Will you come back at all?”
“One day,” she said, “I will.”

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